


Cat in the Sun

by svana_vrika



Category: Free!
Genre: Adults, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Nanase Haruka, Boys Kissing, Catboy Nanase Haruka, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Gods, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Makoto Birthday Fanworks Exchange, Masturbation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Strangers to Lovers, Top Tachibana Makoto, Water Sex, Whimsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:35:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: A faerie story borne from the Egyptian mythos in which the gods are fallible, a son of Bast learns that not all humans are created equal, and love, of course, conquers all.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66
Collections: Tachibana Makoto Birthday Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is top-Makoto / bottom- Haru. 
> 
> I was lucky enough to draw scooterfrog/ MHLinaLinos as a giftee. Lina, thank you so much for giving me so many wonderful prompts, but I have to admit, as soon as I saw AU, gods/mythology and catboy Haru, I was _**off!**_ I hope you enjoy what I did with them as much as I did, and happy birthday, Makoto, you best of all the best boys, _**ever!**_
> 
> This story is an original work of fan-fiction. The Free! franchise and its characters, props and settings are the intellectual property of Masahiro Yokotani, Kyoto Animation and Animation Do. I just borrowed them for a few thousand words of entertainment. No copyright infringements are intended, and I will make no profit from their use. Work is unbetaed; all mistakes are my own.

** _“You, above all others, know how many times I’ve warned him.” _ **

“I do.”

** _“And yet, you would still plead?” _ **

“I would. Not to spare him. My son’s disrespect of Your command is a mar upon my house, and I agree that something must be done. Perhaps punishment will be a more successful tutor for him than Your warnings since he shows the same disregard for his mother’s pleas.” Bast’s eyes flash dangerously as She glances at the boy to Her left before returning Her gaze to Nun’s. “I do, however, plead for clemency. Cast him down as You have sentenced, but I implore You, send him to a place where he may at least _chanc_e upon one who will treat him with kindness, even if only out of pity. He knows nothing of the lower world.”

**_“More the reason to send him. We are meant to be involved. Not to ignore.”_** Nun gazes upon Bast for another moment and then nods. **_“I will grant your request. But it will come at a cost. Save for what is necessary to sustain a human life, he will be denied his precious water.”_**

Bast feels Her son tense beside Her, but his deliberately bored expression doesn’t change. She gives a minute shake of Her head at his stubbornness and then meets Nun’s eyes again. “Let it be done,” She says simply, and then She tips Her head to the Elder in respect, ignoring the weight of Her son’s wide, shocked gaze as he snaps his head to look at Her, _finally_ showing some emotion. 

“Mother—”

**_“Son of Bast,”_** Nun’s rumbling voice cuts in over him, **_“For your repeated transgression of trespassing into the sacred waters of Nun, you are relegated to the lower world until you learn what you are meant to!”_**

A sharp flash of light splits the dimness of Nun’s chamber and brilliant blue eyes close tightly in reflex. The next thing Haruka knows, he is falling, but gently, as if upon a wave. It’s not bad, he tries to convince himself, despite how—for the first time that he can recall—he’s aware of the heart that beats rapidly in his chest and a strange, cool dampness to his palms. After several moments, he can see the lower realm approaching, and his heartrate increases further. He’s gazed down upon the browns of the desert, the greens and blues of the Nile and its valley, many times, but Nut has already drawn the shade of the night; everything is hidden in dark and shadow and the view is strange to him. Foreboding. Until the moon frees Himself from a passing cloud and shines a swath of light across the crystal waters of the Faiyum. Haruka’s eyes light at the vision and excitement overrides his anxiety as he drops ever closer, but then Nun’s voice echoes in his head, reminding him that it is to be avoided.

Haruka’s lips curve down and he petulantly huffs. He knows that Nun is not to be ignored, but he can’t help but wonder what would happen—how much worse the repercussion could possibly be than the punishment he already faces. And then the gentle airstream upon which he rides changes to a gust, and he’s taken directly over the water. The breeze disappears completely and a rumbling laugh mocks Haruka on the tailwind as he’s dropped right into the lake.

Eyes and mouth wide, Haruka gasps at the abrupt submersion and chill and then chokes as he frantically pushes himself to the surface with none of his usual grace. There’s something hindering him, something wet and cold and clinging to his legs, and his skin rises from the emotion coursing through him as he finally breaks the surface. A shout wafts to him from somewhere, and then there’s a splash. Haruka’s heart speeds further. He can’t make out what the voices are saying, and for the first time in his life he feels afraid and alone. Vulnerable.

“Makoto!”

“I—I’m fine! I’m just about there!”

The second voice, and the source of the water’s increasing violence, is much closer this time. The human sounds like Haruka feels: shaky and uncertain. Frightened. It makes Haruka a little curious, and he tries to turn himself toward the voice, but the sensation quickly fades as he struggles to not sink deep again whilst keeping his legs up and away from whatever it was that had snaked against him beneath the surface. He swears he can still feel it, and he shivers—and nearly does go under again.

“Oh!” The water briefly calms with the human’s gasp of shock, but before it can completely, he moves again. “It’s okay!” he assures, fear completely gone, voice soft and reassuring; there’s another, larger ripple and Haruka’s eyes and face tighten against it—ridiculous, he thinks; he’s never been afraid of the water—but then his arm is caught in a tight yet gentle grasp and he’s being pulled forward. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Haruka stays tense for a moment, mortified to be found so utterly helpless in what has always been—to him—his most natural environment. But then, after a few moments, a strong arm slips beneath his knees as the other hand frees his arm to support him at the middle of his back. He’s cradled up against a broad, solid chest, and he can’t help but turn to grasp on, to finally draw a safe breath, one that brings to him a warm, pleasant scent and ends in an exhale of relief.

Makoto sighs in gratitude as he feels the bottom of the Faiyum beneath his feet and then his eyes soften as he gazes down upon the boy that he’s just rescued, his shock and awe fading in light of his compassion. “I’ve got you,” he repeats softly, hold tightening when he feels the grip against his tunic, and then he turns toward the shore, giving Asahi a sheepish smile when he sees that Asahi is wading toward them. The curve of Makoto’s lips shifts to something more amused when Asahi promptly stops, jaw dropping. Makoto can’t blame Asahi at all for his surprise, but he can’t help but find it a little funny, too. It’s rare that anything shocks his oldest friend into silence like this.

“Ma—I—Wh—” Makoto laughs and Asahi lightly scowls, though there isn’t any heat behind it. “I thought you went in after a cat!” he declares as Makoto comes even with him.

“Thought I did too,” Makoto replies, and then he sobers. “And with good reason. Asahi, look.” Moving as carefully as he can, Makoto shifts his hand from the stranger’s back to his head. “Easy,” he lowly soothes when he feels the boy tense again, “I’m not going to hurt you… See?” he says to Asahi in that same tenor a second or two later after he’s pushed the sodden tresses back, and he gently turns the stranger’s face away from his chest.

Asahi gasps, reels back, and almost lands on his ass in the water. “Makoto!” he points a quivering finger. “Is that a—”

“Asahi, don’t be rude!” Makoto interrupts to chastise, but then he nods and gives a slight smile. “But yes, he has a cat’s ears. He has a tail, to—hey!” Makoto blurts when the stranger starts to wriggle in his grasp, and then he repeats it more sharply, and he shifts his hand from the boy’s head to grasp his chin and force his gaze. The sternness that had crept into Makoto’s eyes softens when he sees the embarrassment in the stranger’s. “Please. You need to stop before we end up dunked in the water again. As it is, we’ll both be lucky not to fall ill for the chill in the air tonight.”

Haruka hadn’t been certain what this Makoto had been after when he’d shifted his touch to Haruka’s head, but any comfort Haruka might have felt in the gentle way the large hand had cupped his face fades beneath the redheaded stranger’s reaction—and then disappears altogether when he learns the reason for it. He realizes now that Nun hadn’t laughed over dropping him into the Faiyum, but rather over what Haruka’s punishment for breaking Their _no water_ mandate would be and, embarrassed and furious, he struggles to free himself from Makoto’s hold. Elder or not, Nun has no right to put him at risk like this, not when the gods are all aware of how humanity, as a whole, reacts to anything outside of their perceived, or preferred, norm. Especially in _this _area. The firm tone and grip to his chin just add to Haruka’s ire—he is the son of a goddess and _not_ a child to be chastised, thank you _very_ much—but then that gentle expression and voice returns and, after a moment, Haruka relents. But only because it _is_ chilly out and he doesn’t want to be held responsible if the human does get sick, he tells himself. He’s in enough trouble already.

“Thank you,” Makoto says sincerely when the stranger finally settles, and then his gaze shifts to the redhead again. “Asahi.”

“Ah, right.” Together they wade to the shore, Makoto deep in thought, enough to where, after a few minutes pass, Asahi calls out to him in concern. “What’re you going to do with him?” he asks after Makoto assures him that he’s fine. “I mean, we both know there’s only one way he could have ended up where, and how, he did. For whatever reason, the gods put him there. Are you sure you should have interfered?”

“Well I certainly wasn’t just going to let him drown!” Makoto retorts, though his expression loses its sharpness when Asahi sheepishly apologizes. “Besides, I was thinking; perhaps I was meant to find and save him. Whomever sent him never would have placed him outside this temple and in this form otherwise. Surely they know that I serve here and who I am.”

“Mm. Fair point. You never were one to leave anyone to suffer, least of all a cat. Even before you began to service the temple.” The redhead grins then. “Maybe they sent him as a gift.”

“I hope not!”

Comforted by the conversation, the knowledge that—despite Nun’s rather cruel sense of humor—They truly had honored his mother’s wish and had dropped him where one of Her servants would find him, Haruka relaxes a bit further, lets his eyes drift closed. They open again at Makoto’s rather adamant rebuttal of Asahi’s supposition and Haruka tenses again, eyes narrowing sharply, just as Asahi asks Makoto why, though he doesn’t know if he’s put out more by the human’s dismissal or by how much it rankles.

“I mean you no offense,” Makoto softly assures with a kind glance down to the stranger, and then he looks over at Asahi. “And because I could never find joy in a gift that was someone's punishment.”

“No,” Asahi says softly, affectionately. “No, I know you couldn’t.” 

_This human is different,_ Haruka thinks then and, after taking a subtle breath, he lets himself relax and nuzzles back into Makoto’s chest. That pleasant warmth and scent washes through Haruka again and he once again lets his eyes fall closed.

Makoto looks down when, after a few minutes, he feels the stranger go completely lax. He chuckles softly. “Cute…”

“Makoto?”

Makoto smiles over at Asahi. “He’s fallen asleep." He colors when he sees Asahi’s brow quirk and the knowing smirk flit over his lips. “Everything is cute when it sleeps,” he protests.

Asahi laughs. “Mm hmm.”

“Asahi.”

Asahi chuckles again when Makoto draws out his name, but then he lets it go; they’ve been friends for longer than either of their memories can take them, but there is still some propriety that must be observed between them.

After another ten minutes or so, they’ve reached home, and the servant’s gate. Both Makoto and Asahi are shivering, Makoto more so for having been fully submerged, and he gladly follows Asahi in when Asahi opens the door for him. “Here.” Makoto turns to Asahi and eases the stranger away from his torso. “Take him to a guest room and let him clean up and have some fresh clothing, please? I have to go; I’m in for a scolding already.”

Asahi’s dubious expression fades to one of light concern and he holds out his arms for the stranger. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? I mean, at least your clothing is only wet this time instead of ruined,” he offers helpfully, and Makoto does chuckle a bit as he hands the sleeping man off. “And it is just your tunic and nothing of any true quality.”

“Asa—”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with what you choose to wear when you serve,” Asahi hurriedly says. “I just—”

“I know. Asahi, I have to go.”

“—wish you’d have been born to a station more suited to you, is all,” Asahi finishes softly as Makoto hurries away, and then he sighs.

“It’s his own fault if he’s punished.”

Asahi starts when Haruka speaks, nearly dropping him in the process. Haruka tuts in irritation, puts a hand to the redhead’s chest, and pushes away from him until he’s clumsily put onto his feet. He doesn’t appreciate how he’d been jostled and handed off with no regard, and this Asahi offers him none of that comfort and warmth he’d enjoyed from Makoto. He’s rather put out by it all and the odd feeling he gets from the current of subtext beneath the last exchange between the two simply adds to his vexation. He doesn’t know why _he_ should feel badly. This isn’t his fault, either, and Haruka’s eyes narrow when Asahi simply stands there and gapes. “I neither needed his help nor wanted it, so it’s his own fault,” Haruka furthers, and he refuses to admit to himself that neither the lie nor declaration ease that discomfort in his chest.

“You!” The stranger blinks when Asahi finally finds his voice, and angrily. “You have _no clue_ wh—” Asahi’s lips press suddenly, and he brings a hand up in a dismissive wave at the stranger. “Never mind. High station or not, you’re not worth his story.” Asahi smirks a bit when he sees the other boy’s surprise. “Only the highest quality linens get that transparent when they’re wet,” he points out, and his smirk widens when, after glancing down at himself, the stranger’s face floods with color as he pointedly looks away.

Makoto does his best to dry and change quickly, but his clumsiness plagues him in his rush and slows him anyway, and he’s a good forty-five minutes late by the time he appears at table. His chastisement is gentle, as always, both for being late and for the reason he offers, but the obvious disappointment is difficult for him to bear and it adds to his overall distraction. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and the bit of sharpness in his dismissal brings an embarrassed color to his cheeks, but it doesn’t stop him from hurrying off anyway once he’s able.

The sympathetic look Asahi gives him as he steps into the guest’s wing brings a hint of that embarrassment back again, but neither of them speak about it. “Look,” Asahi quietly beckons once Makoto is at his side. He cracks open the door and they peer in. The stranger is sleeping, curled up on the bed and Makoto’s eyes go soft; a moment later, he can’t help but softly gasp when he realizes that the ears and tail are gone. “Yeah,” Asahi murmurs as they straighten, and then his head tilts when Makoto smiles. “Makoto?”

“I’m glad. At least now he’ll be able to move about freely without having to deal with questions, poor thing.” He gives the redhead a curious look when he softly snorts. “Asahi?”

“Don’t waste too much pity on him, Makoto. He’s cold and has a sharp tongue.”

“Mm. And you bluster and insult when you’re frightened or put on the spot,” Makoto says blandly, lips curving up a bit when Asahi flushes red and stammers before giving a sheepish laugh and shoving a hand through his tousle of hair.

“Alright, poi—”

“Wait. _Sharp-tongued? _He spoke?”

Asahi laughs again, softer and gentler this time. There is no better, kinder person on earth than Makoto, he thinks, but he can be so childishly clueless at times—and petulant, he adds to himself in amusement when he hears the muttered _shut up_ and feels Makoto’s elbow dig into his side. “He did, yes. But you’d be less excited about that if you’d heard him,” he says dryly, though to no avail. Makoto already has his hand on the door, pushing it open again.

“Oh.”

“Makoto?”

Makoto glances over his shoulder at Asahi. “He’s awake.”

Haruka rolls his eyes and shifts to sit up on the edge of the bed. “How could I not be? You’re noisy,” he flatly accuses.

“Told you,” Asahi mutters under his breath but Makoto simply laughs, and Haruka finds himself a bit awestruck by the warmth Makoto conveys through the sound. He hadn’t known humans were capable of it—or is it just this boy? But then Makoto is coming in, is crouching in front of him, and Haruka swears that he’s never seen a more perfect green than he finds in Makoto’s eyes, even amongst all the gems of the gods.

“Hello,” he greets softly. “I’m Makoto, and that’s Asahi.” He tips his chin to the door.

“I know. As I said, I heard you.”

“Right, right,” Makoto says with a sheepish laugh and then he gives him an expectant look; Haruka’s brow furrows slightly, but after a moment, Asahi gives a snort and Haruka’s gaze snaps to the door.

“Guess we’ll just call you cat-boy then,” Asahi drawls as their eyes meet. Makoto instantly reprimands him, and he does feel a _little _bad, but he’s always taken more issue at shows of disrespect toward his friend than Makoto himself ever has.

“Asahi, you may go.”

Asahi mentally winces. _That tone_ rarely comes out and he knows he’s truly stepped in it when it does. “Of course,” he replies with a tip of his head, letting a bit of formality creep into his own, and he leaves, as simply as that. He knows that he’s already forgiven, that Makoto understands the source, and he feels even more like he’s let Makoto down because of it. There are few things as powerful in Asahi’s world as Makoto’s friendship or disappointment.

“I apologize for his rudeness,” Makoto says as he meets the stranger’s eyes again, and he knows he’s never seen a more beautiful blue, even amongst the finest gems of the kingdom. His lips curve up slightly then. “He is right, though. I do need to call you something.” He’s met with silence and a stare that he’s certain is meant to be impassive, but he sees the wariness beneath it and he merely smiles a bit again. “It’s alright. You can tell me when you’re ready,” he assures, and then he straightens and turns toward the door.

“Haru.” Makoto pauses, looks over his shoulder, and Haruka colors a bit beneath that gentle gaze. “You may call me Haru.” And Makoto’s smile is warmer and lovelier than the bright midday sun.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you hear?”

“I did! He was late again!”

Haruka rolls his eyes at the gossip as the women draw closer along the path that runs behind him. The glass-like water of the courtyard’s small pond by which he’s crouched is infinitely more interesting to him, and he swears he physically aches from how he’s having to refrain from even dipping a finger into it.

“Not just that,” the first woman rushes. “Apparently, he came back soaked to the bone this time!”

The second gasps and then, “But how? He’s so afraid of the open water!” 

That _does_ catch Haruka’s interest, both the explanation of what he’d sensed from Makoto the night before, and the way it makes his stomach lightly twist in a way that makes it hard to tell if it’s unpleasant or not. He hadn’t just made Makoto wet, cold and late, but Makoto had been frightened, too. Yet, even knowing that all that would happen, Makoto hadn’t hesitated. He’d still willingly gone into the water to save Haruka.

“I know, bless him,” the first woman says, and Haruka tunes back into their conversation to see if he can learn anything else about his rescuer. “But nobody’s saying how. Probably saving some poor creature, if I had to take a guess. Just like it always is. Though I hear the lady admonished him rather sharply this time.”

“Poor lamb. And right before she’ll be away for a spell, too. Though one _would_ think he’d have learned to be more prudent by now,” the second woman sighs.

Haruka hears her mention a celebration next but they’ve moved beyond the point of proper listening, and his mind is too occupied now by his own thoughts, anyway. It hasn’t even been a full day, but he’s already learned that he’d painted his view of humanity with a broad brush and unfair stroke. There _is_ separation but, here at least, everyone is treated with respect and kindness, and there seems to be some level of fondness even between the different stations within the household. Haruka hasn’t seen the lady yet, but it’s clear that she’s loved and isn’t feared. That said, Haruka is glad to learn that she’s left the estate. He has no clue what he’d say to her, when—inevitably—they would have met, especially since he doesn’t know what Makoto has told her about his presence.

There’s been no mention of a man, but this doesn’t surprise Haruka. He’s never had much interest in the lower realm, but he does know about the Faiyum; how many of the estates along its banks are occupied by higher-born concubines to the Pharaoh who have borne him sons. And even the gods had murmured amongst themselves about how many this Pharaoh had been blessed with. Then again, Haruka had neither seen nor heard anything that indicated that a son of Pharaoh resided here either. Besides, he doesn’t believe that Makoto would be that boldly disrespectful to sneak an absolute stranger into a prince’s home. No matter how much Makoto seems to have his heart set on helping every stray he comes across.

Heat rises to Haruka’s cheeks as the thought flickers through his head. He can, reluctantly, admit to himself that his punishment was deserved, and that it probably will be good for him, but he’s still Bast’s son and the notion is a humiliating one. Not that Makoto has treated him like some homeless waif. He’s been kind from the start, saving him, defending him, making certain he’s properly fed and clothed; providing him a private space yet encouraging him, when he’d checked in on him that morning, to roam the estate as a guest of the house. The lady must be quite fond of Makoto, despite the trouble it seems he causes her with his occasional tardiness and mishaps, Haruka thinks, or Makoto wouldn’t have the authority to grant him such things. Though perhaps it’s because Makoto serves Bast as well that the lady allows him more liberties than most. Haruka sighs and lays back, lets the heat of the baked stone beneath him and that from the sky above lull his eyes shut. He doesn’t know and it doesn’t matter, he supposes, though he does note that, while comfortable, the sun’s warmth isn’t quite as _comforting_ as he’d found it before he’d experienced Makoto’s. 

A rapid sinking sensation in Haruka’s stomach wakes him several hours later. Dusk has fallen, and the combination of deepening shadows and hint of chill in the air adds to his discomfort. It all combines to make him recall his fall from the night before, and he wonders if that’s what he’d been dreaming about. He’s never really been one for dreams, period, never mind unsettling ones; it vexes him, he tells himself, because that’s better than being anxious, and he stiffens against the shiver that wants to course through him as he pushes himself up from the quickly cooling stone and stands. He wonders if Makoto has returned from temple yet, but only because of the hour. It has nothing to do with recalling how Makoto’s kindness and that indescribable warmth had dispelled Haruka’s discomfort the previous evening.

A breeze brings the scent of roasted meat from the house and Haruka’s stomach lightly growls. He heads inside but quickly realizes he isn’t sure what to do. He isn’t there officially and, even if he was, with the lady gone, there isn’t likely to be a table. Yet, those who have seen him believe him a guest of the house, so it isn’t as if he can eat with the servants, even if he’d been so inclined. In the end, he just goes back to his room, even more put out than before, though his heart does lighten when a knock comes a short while later. “Enter,” he invites as he sits up on the bed, and then his expression falls as the door opens. It’s Asahi.

“Didn’t mean to disappoint,” the redhead drops in wry amusement, but it’s the knowing look in his eyes that turns Haruka’s sharply away. “Ah, I’m sorry,” Asahi promptly apologizes, and with enough sheepishness to draw Haruka’s gaze back. “I shouldn’t tease. Everyone falls for Makoto a little bit when they meet him,” he says with a grin, and Haru feels his face heat again.

“I haven’t _fallen for him.”_

“Sure you haven’t. That’s why you looked so despondent when I opened the door.”

“Perhaps it’s because _you_ opened the door,” Haruka counters with a pointed look.

Asahi gapes and sputters and then, to Haruka’s surprise, he starts laughing. “Fair enough,” he agrees easily. “We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot yesterday.” He nods toward the tray he’s carrying, then grins at Haruka again. “Peace offering?”

Haruka hesitates for a second or two, but it’s hard to hold onto feeling offended. Asahi’s eyes and smile are bright and sincere, and he finds himself nodding, his own mouth curving upward just slightly. 

“Good call.” Asahi comes in further and sets the tray down onto the stand beside Haruka’s bed. “They roasted goat tonight for the lady’s departure and it’s always excellent here.”

“I thought she’d left,” Haruka lets slip in his surprise, mentally cursing the unreliability of gossip overheard.

“Not yet. She’ll be returning to the palace in the morning, but she’ll be back for the celebration.” Haruka parts his lips to ask about that, but Asahi quickly cuts him off. “My apologies, but I have to tend to table,” he says sincerely, and Haruka nods and quietly thanks him as he hurries off. He softly sighs as he removes the earthenware cover from its matching plate. He’s grateful to Asahi but he wonders why Makoto hadn’t brought the tray—and then he colors and scowls slightly when Asahi’s playful taunt echoes through his head. “Ridiculous.”

The food proves every bit as good as Asahi had promised and it soothes Haruka’s irritation a bit, though he can’t help but go warm every time Asahi’s foolish notion teases through his head. He finds Makoto interesting because he’s different, and that’s all there is to that, he tells himself as he finishes the beer that had been provided with his meal. He prefers the wine served at his mother’s table, but it isn’t bad, he decides, and then he tidies up his tray and gets up to take it to the hall. 

Makoto is _right there_, hand poised to knock, when Haruka opens the door. Haruka takes a shocked step backward, and the tray tips, but Makoto has it before it can spill, one hand on its edge, the other on Haruka’s upper arm to steady him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes after a moment of silence between them, and he takes the tray from Haruka as naturally as if he’d meant to all along, though the hint of color in Makoto’s cheeks makes Haruka wonder if those few seconds had felt charged to him, too.

_Everyone falls for Makoto… _

“Tch.”

“Haru?”

Haruka’s face grows warmer with the overheard sound and he turns away. “It’s late,” is all he says and, behind him, Makoto smiles. He swears he can hear _I thought you wouldn’t come _in Haru’s petulant tone, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on, or put too much stock into, it. It very well could just be his own wishful thinking that Haru might be as intrigued by him as Makoto is Haru.

“My apologies,” he offers sincerely, and he turns to set the tray in the hall. His smile returns when, as he turns back around, he sees that Haru is facing him, sees a flicker of relief through the pretty blue that tells that Haru is glad that Makoto hadn’t just left him. “I would have come sooner, but I had to be extra good today to make up for yesterday,” he continues with a sheepish chuckle.

Haruka recalls the overheard conversations from earlier, his own cool words to Asahi the night before, and his lips lightly press as his gaze falls away. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

Haruka’s head snaps up in his surprise. “You wouldn’t have been in trouble if it wasn’t for me.”

Makoto smiles a bit and shakes his head, then lightly laughs at the way Haru’s brow arches at him in a silent contradiction of his denial. “Alright, yes; helping you did make me late last night, but that’s on me. I mean, I chose to do it, you know? And it wasn’t the first—well, actually, I’ve never pulled a _person_ from the Faiyum, so I suppose that, in that way, it was,” he interrupts himself, and then he glances up when he hears a huffed sound from Haruka. “You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, though his own mouth is curved in a grin and his eyes sparkle.

“Am not.” Haruka turns back toward his bed with his denial so Makoto can’t see his broadened smile; by the time he sits, his expression is neutral, save for a hint of light to his blue that keeps Makoto’s grin in place.

“Right,” Makoto replies in a tone that tells Haruka he knows Haruka is bluffing, and he comes in further. After a second or two, Haruka glances up at him, and then down toward the remaining space on his bed; Makoto takes the silent invitation and sits as well. “Anyway,” he continues from before, “You weren’t my first rescue, and you won’t be my last.”

“I _can_ swim.” The words come out more curtly than what Haruka had intended them to, and he mentally curses his stiltedness; realizes, in that moment, just how little he’d interacted with others even in his own plane. “I love the water,” he pushes to continue, and it’s uncomfortable, but he _wants _to, feels that he owes Makoto at least that much for saving him, for not getting up and leaving despite his awkwardness. “I just wasn’t expecting to be dumped in the middle of the Faiyum like that, is all.”

Makoto’s smile returns as he listens; he can tell it’s an effort for Haru, but it just intrigues him more, both his awkwardness and that he’s _making_ the effort. The gesture gentles at Haru’s last. “So, it was a punishment, then.” He nods when Haru does. “I figured, though more for the ears and tail than because you were in the water,” he admits. “I know there are many who enjoy it much more than I do.”

“Fear is a common thing,” Haruka replies, meaning to reassure. He’s not familiar with it, but he figures now that it’s probably what he’d felt that had made his heart race and his hands clammy—and then he realizes what he’d said and sends a brief, wide-eyed look up at Makoto.

“It’s alright,” Makoto assures before Haruka can even look away, never mind apologize. “I figured there’d be gossip. There always is after an incident like this. But that won’t stop me, and neither will my fear. I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least try and do what was right,” he adds when he sees the _why_ in Haruka’s eyes.

Haruka’s lips part softly with Makoto’s last. Even with everything Haruka had admitted to realizing about humanity in general earlier in the day, he still can’t believe the level of selflessness and _goodness_ in this boy. It makes him want to know more, want more of him, period: yet another foreign emotion that manifests itself physically, though his heartrate again, yes, but also through a strange flip in his abdomen this time.

“Haru?”

Haruka colors slightly and shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he murmurs, and he drops his gaze, though—after a moment—he lifts it again. “You’re different,” he says quietly, trying to explain, but Makoto’s eyes dim at his words. His face heats further but, before he can do much more than acknowledge the sensation, the light shifts in Makoto’s eyes again, and Makoto’s lips curve up ever-so-slightly.

“And you don’t mind that,” Makoto says slowly, a combination of question and statement. Haruka shakes his head, and Makoto lets his smile bloom. “Thank you,” he says softly and with a light touch to Haruka’s cheek.

Haruka feels that pleasant warmth he’d wanted as he’d laid out in the sun and he instinctively leans into Makoto’s hand; he sees Makoto’s surprise as an attractive color highlights Makoto’s cheeks, but then the light in Makoto’s eyes shifts again to something softer and warmer. He strokes his fingers back over Haruka’s ear and into his hair, and Haruka closes his eyes with a low, contented sound. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to miss something that you’d never had, but he was learning through Makoto’s touch that it is.

“Beautiful.”

The word is breathed, barely audible, and it makes Haruka’s face warm again. He opens his eyes and then they slightly widen. Makoto is _right there,_ so close that they’re sharing each other’s breaths, and Haruka can neither move nor look away. Neither can Makoto, apparently, and when Haruka sees him swallow, sees the way his throat moves with it, that fluttering comes back, only a bit lower in his gut. His gaze briefly flickers to Makoto’s mouth, though it quickly moves back to Makoto’s eyes when those lips curve up again slightly to let him know that Makoto had noticed. Embarrassed, Haruka eases back a bit and Makoto lets his hand drop away—though Haruka does find some solace in noting that Makoto’s face is every bit as red as his own feels.

“I should go.” Makoto stands as he speaks and Haruka merely nods, though he does call out to the other before he opens the door.

“Thank you. I’m glad it was you. That I was sent where _you_ would find me.”

Makoto _smiles_, and while it’s not as good as his touch, it’s close. “Me too. Until tomorrow, Haru,” he promises and then he slips out and shuts the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Haruka’s days continue to pass in similar fashion. He sleeps until he’s ready to wake, snacks on the offering of cool milk, aged cheese, and fresh-baked bread laden with figs and dates, pistachios and almonds that is left outside his door, and then makes his way to the bathhouse. It’s the most trying part of the day for Haruka. He has no clue what Nun considers _necessary to sustain a human life_ in regard to bathing, but the thought of foregoing it, or of not having his body cleansed of its hair growth, even for a day, is an abhorrent one. He isn’t as anxious now as he’d been at first—he seems to be the only male guest on the estate, and the bathers work efficiently—but he still doesn’t draw an easy breath until he’s free of the water. And that disconnect, that fear, saddens him.

To distract himself from his sorrow and loneliness—the water had truly been his closest friend and companion until it had been taken from him—Haruka wanders the gardens and courtyard, inevitably finding a warm, safe place to curl up and nap until Makoto comes and finds him. Yet another reason that Haruka is glad that the lady had returned to Pharaoh when she had: Makoto’s time is his own once he returns from Bast’s temple, and they’re free to spend the evenings together, talking while they dine and long after until Makoto eventually excuses himself for the night. And, by then, Haruka is so full and warmed from his company that the loneliness stays at bay until the cycle resets the next day.

They never talk about those few moments between them Haruka’s second night at the estate, but Haruka knows that Makoto hasn’t forgotten them anymore than he has. He catches glimpses of that look, of the want that those seconds had been charged with, in the quiet moments between their conversations, and at the end, when they eventually die down. It’s usually then that Makoto takes his leave, but Haruka is content to let him. Haruka isn’t used to exercising restraint when it comes to something he wants and, as Bast’s son, there hasn’t been much that’s been denied to him. But Makoto is a human, not a deity, and Haruka isn’t certain what his rules are in regard to attraction and mating. Besides, the last thing Haruka wants is to be reading the situation _completely_ wrong and to scare the other boy away. He’s more comfortable now in the lower world, but it still isn’t _his_ world, and the thought of being there without Makoto’s comfort and warmth is unsettling. 

Haruka knows now why Makoto fears the open water; that his older brothers had tormented him for being different than them, for being favored as the youngest, as the last son. They’d taken their teasing too far one day and had left Makoto as drowned in the Nile, but, somehow, the mewls of a kitten had penetrated Makoto’s fading mind. Unable to bear the thought of the creature dying alone as he was, Makoto had pushed through his fading consciousness to try and find it. He never had, Makoto had told him, but it had drawn him far enough onto the riverbank that he’d eventually been found and taken to his mother. When he’d shared his tale and, in his gratitude, had asked to serve Bast, he’d been sent to Her temple on the Faiyum, and the lady’s estate. Haruka smiles as he recalls how, with a soft giggle that had seemed both out of place and yet perfect for the larger boy, Makoto had told him that he’d loved cats since well before then, had already been chastised more than once for having brought his rescues home, and that the incident had just been the perfect reason to put forth the hope he’d harbored about offering his service.

Haruka also knows that Makoto is nearing the day that will mark the start of his twentieth year, that—according to Makoto—Haruka appears to be of similar age. Truthfully, Haruka has no clue. He knows he is Bast’s son and has always been, though he also knows he came well after his mother’s first two sons, well after Her husband Ptah had left Egypt behind to travel to the East. He knows he’s considered young on his plane, yet old enough to have been assigned a reign had he been eligible for one. But he isn’t; something to do with his conception, he’d heard whispers of long ago, though it had never bothered Haruka. His mother had wanted him dearly enough to risk the gossip of the others and that’s enough for him. But, without a purpose, he gets easily bored, which is why they’re currently separated, and as he gazes longingly at the courtyard pool, he curses himself a fool, for now he has neither his mother nor his water. There is Makoto, of course, but Haruka still doesn’t know what Makoto would think if he ever learned the full truth.

It had taken Haruka a few days to decide what to tell Makoto. What he’d finally gone with had been the truth: that he’d been caught swimming in a pool sacred to Nun and that Nun had grown angry, that he’d been sent away from his home as punishment for it, with the additional sentence of the cat ears and tail appearing if he ever went into the water for anything more than the requisite bathing. He’d always been fond of cats too, he’d told Makoto, who had promptly lit up like the sun, though his expression had gentled as he’d expressed his sympathy and had shared that he’d heard that the gods could have as wicked a sense of humor as humans sometimes. Haruka had left it at that, too embarrassed over the shame he’d brought to his mother’s house to share anything more, especially to one so devoted to Her service, and Makoto hadn’t asked anything further. He’d just moved a bit closer to Haruka and they had sat in silence together—until Makoto had told him that, while he was sorry for Haruka’s plight, he couldn’t help but be as glad as Haruka that Haruka had been sent somewhere that _Makoto_ had found him.

Haruka’s eyes lid slightly as he recalls how the air had been charged again, how the warmth of Makoto’s confession had highlighted his handsome face; how it had been impossible to settle down enough to sleep after and what Haruka had done to ease himself of the tension that had settled into his gut and groin as myriad inappropriate thoughts had run rampantly through his head. He’s known what sex is for as long as he can remember but he’s never felt its pull toward another before. Then again, nobody has captivated him like Makoto.

“Careful, Haru!”

Haru starts, nearly falls out of his crouch and onto his ass with the warning, but his anger dies as quickly as it had come when he sees just how close his fingertips had been to the water. He still scowls, but over his plight, and then he sighs and glances up at Makoto. “Thank you.”

“Mm.” Makoto shakes his head and then offers Haru his hand. “I’m sorry I startled you,” he says contritely, and he truly had hated to disturb the other boy. Makoto thinks that Haru is beautiful, but never more than when he finds him beside the water in the setting sun—though his mind does taunt him with thoughts of situations in which Haru might look even more gorgeous. Makoto’s face warms, and then further when he sees the color start to creep into Haru’s, telling him that he’s staring. “Let’s go, Haru,” he manages after lightly clearing his throat. “Dinner’s waiting.” Makoto grins then, the excitement he’s been dealing with since he’d left temple briefly taking rein. “Then I have a surprise for you!”

Curiosity dulls the edge from the buzz flowing through Haruka’s veins, and Makoto’s grin softens Haruka’s disappointment. The way Makoto had looked at him… Makoto’s want has never been that blatant before and Haruka had thought for certain that maybe _something_ would finally happen. But Makoto’s smile does something to him on a different level entirely. Just seeing him so happy and excited makes Haruka feel the same way, similar to how the loving looks he’d receive from his mother had warmed him. The implication of the comparison isn’t missed and Haruka feels himself blushing again. He’s well aware that sex and love frequently have nothing to do with each other, that it’s a truth that spans both planes. But it makes him feel good, happy, the thought of having them both together, and he wonders now if Makoto is one who doesn’t want one without the other and if _that’s_ why Makoto hasn’t been more forward physically. But whose feelings is Makoto uncertain of? His own, or Haruka’s?

The question occupies Haruka’s mind as they eat and he’s quieter than usual because of it. Makoto, of course, doesn’t know why, but he picks up on the latter, and his brow furrows softly when he sees that Haru is just picking at his meat. “Are you alright?” he asks concernedly and with a light touch to Haru’s arm. Haru looks up in surprise; smiles just slightly when he sees the worry in Makoto’s eyes.

“I am. I’m just thinking, is all.”

“But not about the surprise.” Makoto smiles a bit in turn when he sees the wonder return to Haru’s gaze. “You’re far too serious to be thinking about that, Haru.” Makoto briefly draws in his lower lip to try and quell his nervousness, really hopes he isn’t being too forward when he says, “You can talk to me about anything. I want you to know that. But only if you want to,” he adds hurriedly. “It’s not like you owe—” He stops, his eyes going wide, when Haru puts a light finger to his mouth.

“Makoto, I know.” Haruka drops his hand and his eyes briefly follow before lifting to Makoto’s again. “Thank you,” he says, and the words feel stilted, but he hopes, _so_ hopes that his eyes are doing a better job of saying what he can’t, and then Makoto’s widen and his breath catches, that fetching color rising to his cheeks; Haruka can’t help but feel a bit proud that, yes, it seems as if he’s gotten his message across just fine. At least he knows that it can’t be _his_ feelings that Makoto questions now. And from the look that’s crept into Makoto’s eyes again… Haruka’s entire body goes warm and he drops his gaze to his meal.

Makoto almost feels lightheaded from his elation. Everything he’s daydreamed about nearly since the night he’d pulled Haru from the Faiyum is right there in Haru’s eyes, and everything he’s come to feel since that moment rushes forward to shine in his own. Haru sees it, Makoto knows from how Haru drops his gaze again, and his heart gives a sweet little ache when he realizes a belated moment later that Haru is now digging rather healthily into his plate. “Haru,” he breathes softly, just stunned at the fact that he, that _they_, had been weighing on Haru’s mind that heavily before, but before he can say more, a quiet admonishment of _eat, Makoto, _cuts him off.

“I want my surprise,” Haruka continues with a sidelong glance. His lips quirk slightly as he looks back at his plate; he thinks stunned looks quite good on Makoto and he can’t wait to see what other expressions he can draw from him.

Makoto doesn’t rush through his meal per se, but he speaks less through it than usual. He steals glances at Haru as he chews, and each time he catches Haru stealing one back, his entire body warms. As they finish, however, his earlier excitement comes back and, after taking care of their trays, he returns to the bed and offers Haru his hand again. Haru takes it without question, despite the curiosity in his eyes, and that warmth from before gently washes through Makoto beneath his eagerness.

It’s cute, Haruka thinks, how excited Makoto is, and he can’t help but catch a bit of it, can’t help but wonder what Makoto has planned that has him in such a state. For the first few moments, Haruka is so entranced that he doesn’t pay attention to where they’re going, but then he realizes that they’re much deeper into the estate house than he’s ever felt comfortable venturing into on his own, and his breath lightly catches when Makoto boldly leads him into a room that Haruka just _knows_ is the lady’s chamber. “Makoto, wh—” he begins, but then he stops when they exit onto a small, but elegant patio—not that Haruka is paying _any_ attention to that. All he sees is the large, circular basin hewn out of stone at the end of the footpath. Or, more accurately, the water filling said basin, crystal clear and shimmering with the last colors of the setting sun. “Makoto.”

“I know you’ve been missing the water,” Makoto says softly. “It’s not big enough to swim, but you can soak for a little bit, at least. No one will bother you here. And we can stay until you’re dry and safe.”

Haruka is at a loss over the extent of Makoto’s generosity, at the risk he is taking, not only in violating the privacy of the lady’s chambers but in deliberately flaunting a punishment set by a god, just to let Haruka feel, _truly feel_, the water against him again. He parts his lips, but can’t find any words, and Makoto’s expression just gentles before he tips his chin toward the exit they’d just come out of. Asahi is there now, and something in his smile makes Haruka blush, but then the redhead turns away, steps back inside to keep guard for them, and Haruka looks back to Makoto. “And Nun?” 

Makoto smiles, gives into temptation, lightly runs the backs of his fingers over Haru’s heated cheek. Haru leans into the touch, as always, and Makoto’s eyes lid slightly as he lets the stroke continue back through Haru’s hair and then around his ear. “I prayed about this,” he murmurs, recalling what he’d seen in Haru’s eyes as they’d eaten and taking the caress further than he has before, letting his fingers glide down the tendon in Haru’s neck. “And this evening, the goddess answered me.” He feels Haru’s breath catch as his fingers leave Haru’s throat, and he has to swallow for what it does to him. “A cat as white as newly bleached linen greeted me on the steps of the inner sanctuary after I’d tended to the goddess and Her texts, and I knew it was from Her. I’ve never seen pure white in all my years, and the temple cats never come beyond the hypostyle into Her space.” He smiles then. “So go. Before the water cools and I have to hear Asahi complain that he carried the heating stones for nothing,” he says with a laugh, though it fades when Haru takes his hand and gently tugs.

“Come with me.”

“Haru,” Makoto breathes, but he doesn’t resist as Haru leads him to bench, doesn’t hesitate to undress as Haru does. Once they’re naked, Haru takes his hand again and draws him back to the pool, and Makoto’s eyes lid again as he watches Haru’s lithe body slip into the water, sees the expression of pure bliss settle over his beautiful face.

Haruka feels it the instant his ears and tail appear, but the pleasure of being in the water overrides the sensation of it. After a moment or two, he realizes that Makoto hadn’t followed, and he opens his eyes. His body warms through and his dick fills as he gazes upon Makoto. Smooth, tanned skinn, broad shoulders tapering to the ‘V’ of his waist, cut and defined musculature, Makoto could be a god himself with his physique, and the way that Makoto is staring, mouth slightly open, eyes half-mast and hazed with want and adoration; Haruka has _never_ wanted to be worshipped, but he feels he wouldn’t mind it so much from just him. “Makoto,” he calls in a murmur, reaching up to him, and it breaks Makoto from his stupor enough to where he slowly steps forward.

Partially hard just from the sight of Haru naked, Makoto’s arousal strengthens from the eroticism of Haru’s transformation. The ears and tail suit him so well for how sleek and feline he is even without them, and part of Makoto feels guilty for thinking it; this _is_ a punishment, after all. But then Haru beckons him, extends his hand, and all Makoto can do is answer his call. As he sits, Haru shifts forward, closing the slight distance between them. “Haru?” he gasps in question as Haru rises up to straddle his thighs, and he grows harder from the pretty blush Haru wears, from the sensation of their groins coming together.

“Is this okay?” Haruka asks, hand coming to rest on Makoto’s sternum as he glances up at the taller boy, stomach flipping softly and heart racing slightly, part from his boldness, but mostly from the want that colors Makoto’s cheeks and eyes. “I just—I wanted to be close to you.”

“Haru.” Makoto brings a hand up to lightly touch his cheek, gives him a soft smile. “Mm.” Haru smiles back and he warms from the sight, and then further when Haru leans into him, head on his shoulder. Makoto’s eyes lid slightly, and he brings an arm around him to slowly stroke down his back, the other hand resting at Haru’s hip to wrap around his slender waist. As his fingers nudge the base of Haru’s tail, Haru softly mewls and arches into him. Swallowing thickly, Makoto repeats the caress, lightly nuzzles beneath a tapered ear, and he groans, hips shifting slightly, as Haru’s nails lightly dig into his shoulder blades with a wanton sigh of his name. “Haru,” he breathes as he lifts his head; Haru raises his own as well, and then tips his head to bring their lips together in response to the plea in Makoto’s eyes. 

There’s a hint of a pause with even less space between them and then their mouths find each other’s again. Light presses, gentle nips and tugs quickly become harder and greedier, and Makoto’s entire body lights with arousal at the whisper-soft moan Haru gives him as he slides his tongue into Haru’s mouth and strokes over a slightly rough tongue. Licking deep, he tightens his hold on Haru’s waist, gently squeezing before sliding his hand up, thumb teasing at Haru’s nipple before he strokes back down to his waist again.

Haruka has never felt such want, such hunger, neither within himself nor from another. It’s a dizzying cycle that feeds off itself, and he knows that Makoto feels it, too, with how he chases each soft sound that escapes Haruka’s lips with a lower, throatier one of his own as those large hands caress his body. Each time Makoto slowly strokes along the base of his tail, pleasure sparks through Haruka hot and fast until he has to break the kiss to breathe, panting softly into Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto has never taken a lover, but he is neither celibate nor blind. He’s felt attraction before, knows what makes himself feel good, but he’s never been inclined to seek pleasure from another in the way that so many of his peers and brothers do. He’s never really questioned why, has just accepted it as another way in which he differs from the rest, but now, with Haru clinging to him so and looking at him with such ardor and want in his eyes, Makoto dazedly wonders if it was because he was meant to wait for him. After a gentle tug to Haru’s lower lip, Makoto’s mouth moves to his neck; he lays hot, open-mouthed kisses along the pale flesh as he strokes down to Haru’s tail again, then captures his mouth in another kiss, hips pushing up as Haru’s roll down. “Haru,” he breathes after they break again, and Makoto nuzzles along his jaw, one hand still caressing at the base of Haru’s tail, the other slipping forward to wrap around their cocks and stroke.

Haruka’s breaths come quicker as Makoto kisses and caresses him; he wants to learn Makoto’s body, too, to taste and touch, but the pleasure threatens to overwhelm him, and when Makoto’s hand wraps around their dicks, Haruka looses another groan. Makoto’s mouth moves along Haruka’s jaw, and then his nose is teasing again at his ear, hot breaths caressing the fine hairs within. It sends another jolt of arousal through Haruka’s system, pulls another soft, wanton sound from his throat as his gut and balls draw tighter.

“So beautiful,” Makoto murmurs against the sensitive flesh, and Haru’s nails dig into his shoulders again as he rolls his hips and fucks into Makoto’s hand. Makoto groans, nuzzles the spot at Haru’s temple. “Haru… my treasure… my sweet,” he breathes before he takes Haru’s mouth again, sharing wet, messy kisses between panting breaths as he shifts the hand at the small of Haru’s back, running his fingers lower around his tail to the even softer flesh beneath it.

Haruka trembles with the acute pleasure the touch beneath his tail brings; his tail twitches high to expose himself further and his rhythm falters but Makoto picks it up, tightening his grasp and stroking them firm and quick. He’s close, so close, and then Makoto’s fingers move again, parting just enough in their caress so that the tip of his lower catches Haruka’s hole. Haruka’s orgasm snaps through him, breath catching hard to partially stifle his cry, and Makoto swallows the rest of it in a hot, hungry kiss as he strokes him through his release.

The vision Haru makes takes Makoto to the edge and, when Haru breaks the kiss to slouch forward against him, Makoto shifts his hand to just his cock, head dropping forward to rest on Haru’s as he strokes himself. Haru tips his head slightly and, still panting softly, nuzzles beneath his ear. “Come for me, beloved,” he encourages, his smooth tenor slightly rough from the sounds Makoto had pulled from him, and Makoto’s teeth set in a grimace of pleasure as it takes him over and he spills over his fist. Haru nuzzles him again, kisses his jaw, then lightly strokes up and down his back as Makoto relaxes beneath him with a soft, sated sigh.

After several minutes, Makoto stirs again and Haruka lifts his head as he does; there’s a shyness to Makoto’s eyes and smile that Haruka finds both amusing and sweet after what they’ve just done and he finds himself smiling in return, though it fades when Makoto sheepishly apologizes to him. “For what?” he asks, truly curious, especially when Makoto colors slightly.

“We soiled the water before you had a chance to truly enjoy it.”

Haruka blinks and then, eyes soft, he kisses him again. “It’s fine,” he assures, and then he lays his head against Makoto’s shoulder. “I’ve been longing for Makoto almost as long as I’ve been missing the water.” He feels Makoto’s smile, the heat in the cheek that rests against his temple, and he softly purrs when Makoto’s arms wrap around him tightly.

“I’ve longed for you since you came to me, too.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You can stop blushing, you know. _And_ glaring. I told you, I didn’t see anything.”

Haruka’s lips part to tell Asahi that he is not doing either.

“Ah! Don’t move! You don’t want this stuff in your eyeball!”

It takes all of Haruka’s effort not to roll his eyes. He’s been using kohl for formal occasions for as long as he can remember, likely for longer than Asahi’s been applying it, but he refrains, reminds himself _again_ that Asahi is there to help him. That Makoto trusts Asahi implicitly or Asahi wouldn’t have stood guard as they’d made love in the lady’s pool a couple nights ago. Not that sex had been Makoto’s intent when he’d asked the favor of Asahi, but still.

“You’re blushing again.”

Asahi says it with a laugh this time, and Haruka _really_ wants to scowl. He thinks that Asahi is being overly annoying because Haruka _can’t_ say anything right now, but Haruka manages to refrain and, instead, turns his mind to a slightly safer line of thought: this celebration for which Asahi is helping him ready himself. He isn’t sure how he feels about it. Guilty, in part; he’s heard murmurs of it for weeks and has meant, a few different times, to ask, but—for one reason or another, not all of them his fault—has never actually. He does know that the lady’s return will herald the start of it, and that leaves him feeling anxious. He’s been a guest of the house for just shy of a cycle, so it can’t be helped; he must attend. It would be odd if he didn’t, and he doesn’t want anyone questioning Makoto about it. But he’s once again faced with what to say to her if they meet. And he hasn’t seen Makoto, save for briefly the day before, to inquire. He hadn’t asked then, either; neither one of them had exactly been thinking of the celebration when they’d been together. Haruka mentally curses when he feels his cheeks warm again, hears Asahi snicker under his breath.

Right. The celebration.

Despite the bit of anxiety and guilt, Haruka is admittedly curious about it. He remembers witnessing a few for his mother when he’d been very young, how awed and proud he’d been that it had all been for her, and part of his mind questions when he’d lost that excitement, that fascination, while the other wonders how this will differ, being a private affair. He knows from pieces of conversations he’s heard that important guests are expected. The estate has been cleaned from top to bottom, both inside and out, and fresh torches line the wide pathway to the main entry gate. It promises to be a grand feast and Haruka is interested to see how it differs from the ones he’s attended on his plane—though he has no doubt that the wine and gossip will flow as freely between the humans as it does the gods.

Haruka struggles again not to roll his eyes. He hates the latter, the inane prattling and small talk. And he can’t even console himself with the thought that he’d at least have his friends to pass the time with—despite his brashness and teasing, Haruka knows he has one in Asahi too—because both Asahi and Makoto will likely be too occupied to entertain him. Makoto is busy even now, finishing his own preparations for the lady’s return.

Friends. A small smile forms in Haruka’s mind, even as his heart hurts slightly. Nun’s punishment was cruel indeed; the more time he spends on the lower plane, the more Haruka gains, but it’s not the thought of losing it all that makes him ache inside. He wants to stay, to be with Makoto, but that comes with sacrifice as well. He loves his mother dearly and, in the lady’s courtyard, when Makoto had spoken of his sign, he’d felt that acutely. All cats are his mother's, but Makoto had been right. The white one is hers specifically and, as much as Haruka’s longing had been for the water and Makoto, part of it—in that moment—had been for her. And, beyond how he’d miss her should he stay, Haruka can’t begin to guess what other stipulations might be laid out, what else he might have to give up in order to.

“There.”

Haruka blinks when, abruptly, an elegant round of polished bronze is thrust in front of his face, but then he smiles. Asahi had done well. “Thank you,” he says as he turns to face him; Asahi stares for a moment and then blinks himself, a hint of color rising to his cheeks with his grin. “What?”

“It’s probably a good thing Makoto _couldn’t_ come and help you. The two of you’d likely never leave the room for how good the two of you look and how bad you have it for each other.”

Heat rushes to Haruka’s face and he scowls, turns away with a muttered, “Embarrassing.” Asahi snickers, apologizes with a light hand to Haruka’s shoulder and then begins to gather the cosmetics and other hygiene items. After a moment or two, once some of his discomfort has passed, Haruka turns again with a slightly puzzled look, but Asahi’s already at the door and, despite his curiosity, Haruka decides not to call him back. He has no doubt that, like Makoto, Asahi has even more to do today than usual.

Haruka’s brow furrows slightly as he turns back around and the door closes behind Asahi. Makoto always looks good, but Asahi has never commented on it before; beyond that, why would Makoto dress differently for the night when Asahi hasn’t? Perhaps because he’ll be openly tending to the lady? Haruka scowls again, but at himself this time. Out of the countless things he and Makoto have discussed, they’ve never talked about his duties, specifically. Most of what Haruka does know he’s assumed, which means he doesn’t really _know _much about them at all. He’s learned a lot, has changed a lot, since Nun had sent him to the lower plane. But, he realizes, he’s still largely just observing versus interacting, still largely viewing things through a rather narrow scope, even when it comes to Makoto. It makes Haruka feel selfish, self-centered, which—he admits—he probably has been. Until he’d been sent away, he hadn’t cared about anyone outside of himself and his mother. But that isn’t the case here and, he realizes, he’s going to have to push himself to think _beyond _himself more. 

Resolving to do better going forward doesn’t help Haruka with his situation now; his only recourse is to attend the celebration blindly and hope that he can pick up relatively quickly on what it’s all about. And he _really_ wants to see Makoto, especially after Asahi’s comment, even if they can’t interact—which means he probably should leave his room, he thinks wryly.

Haruka’s eyes widen slightly as soon as he steps out. He’s never seen anyone in this section of the house outside of Asahi and Makoto, but he quickly realizes that it makes sense that they’d be readying the other guest rooms. The servants ignore him as they hurry about to put the finishing touches on everything, and Haruka keeps close to the wall to stay out of their way as he makes his way toward the main living area. It’s quieter here, though he doesn’t go beyond the door that leads to the kitchen and the stables further out. He can only imagine the franticness he’d find there. As Haruka turns to head back toward the main entry gate, something catches his eye from the family temple; there’s a carved likeness of his mother in a place of honor, and he smiles.

The guest area is a little quieter as he passes back by it but, once he steps out of the house, he sees that the lawn between the outer wall and the Faiyum is an entirely different story. There are people everywhere, and not just the guests. There are servants in attendance, directing new arrivals, managing tables laden with jugs of beer, vessels of wine and platters of meats and fruits, cheeses and breads. It’s all very festive and bordering too loud already; Haruka decides to procure a cup of wine and some cheese and then find a quieter spot on the peripheral.

Myriad snippets of conversation come to him through the din; some of it briefly captures his attention, most of it fades away. At one point, as he nears the tables, he thinks he hears Makoto’s name, but he can’t be certain. _Pharaoh_ comes to his ears a couple of times as he makes his way toward the back again once he’s gotten what he’d wanted, and then, as he waits for a group of men to cut through, one of them says something about Pharaoh’s son, speculating what kind of master he’ll make. Haruka’s stomach flips slightly as he stills at a spot toward the far edge of the thickening crowd. Perhaps this was a prince’s house after all, and he just hasn’t claimed it yet. Perhaps the lady had gone to retrieve him. If so, what would become of him when he was found out? And more importantly, what would happen to Makoto? 

The thought of Makoto taking punishment for his kindness makes Haruka’s stomach hurt. He tries to console himself with the thought that Makoto also serves his mother and that not even a prince would dare to treat one of his mother’s servants too harshly, but he’s seen how humans can treat each other so cruelly for stupid reasons, or no reason at all, most especially those in higher stations. It worries him, makes the wine in his cup—which is actually quite good—taste bland as desert dust in his mouth. He drinks it anyway, tells himself he’s being foolish, reminds himself of the other times he’s made assumptions from gossip overheard. Tells himself that, despite his earlier determination, this is one instance where he’s going to _have_ to stand back and see.

A soft sigh escapes his lips and he brings his cup to his mouth again. His hand pauses as. Despite the noise around him, music comes to his ears from a distance. It’s too far away to make anything out of it; for all he knows servants at another house could be celebrating an evening off while the masters are attending this one. A short time later, someone shouts out that they see torches and Haruka turns with the crowd. He can’t see anything yet, but he knows that, while his hearing is infinitely better than a human’s, his long-vision pales in comparison. He sees the flickering lights soon enough, though, and—by then—the music has become audible to everyone, and clear enough to Haruka that he knows it’s a band of musicians and dancers accompanying whomever is drawing near. His stomach clenches unpleasantly again. There’s only one class of humans that would announce their arrival so, that would require a troupe of dancers to entertain them on their journey. Royalty approaches and, while Haruka typically wouldn’t care and would likely even have scoffed at their self-importance, he’s too worried for Makoto and what might befall him, And that he can’t draw Makoto under his protection truly bothers him, but who would believe him if he were to tell them who he was when not even Makoto knows that about him?

The first of the musicians comes into sight then; shadows, at first, flickering from the torchlight, but soon, the whole troupe is visible, followed closely behind by a large and ornate palanquin. Cries of _Pharaoh_ ripple through the crowd and, as the entourage turns to travel the length of the wall toward the rear entrance of the estate, as one, those gathered go to their knees and bow their foreheads to the ground, Haruka just a split second behind the throng. It’s awkward, and slightly humiliating; he’s only bowed to Nun and the other Ancients before, but this is Pharaoh, the living Horus and son of Ra, and Haruka is in _his_ realm now.

As the palanquin disappears from view, the crowd rises and returns to the reveling. Haruka isn’t surprised. The celebration has been long anticipated, and who knows how long Pharaoh will linger inside, especially if he’s ensuring that the estate is ready for his son? The thought twists Haruka’s stomach again; he feels twitchy, anxious, and the revelry around him magnifies it. All he wants is solitude, the quiet water in the courtyard, but not even that place is likely safe tonight. The only place for him is the privacy of his room, but he can’t escape to it whilst Pharaoh is inside. He can, however, make his way forward so that all he has to do after Pharaoh comes to greet the crowd is slip in—hopefully unnoticed.

Making quiet excuses as necessary, Haruka begins to work through the throng. Half through, the crowd’s excitement mounts again as the great gate is suddenly thrust open. Pharaoh’s son is mentioned again by a group of tittering females this time. Haruka rolls his eyes and carries forward until another bit of overheard conversation stops him in his tracks. _…surprised this fuss is being made for such an eccentric boy_, he hears a male say to his left, and then another… _completely different than his brothers, though I suppose it’s allowed since he’s the last son of many and this is the closest that he’ll ever get to the throne._

_Mm. That, or Pharaoh doesn’t wish to anger the great goddess by slighting him. There are some who believe that Bast chose the boy Herself… _

Haruka’s breaths are tight and painful in his chest as he moves again; the noise around him becomes a low buzz as it fades to the blood rushing through his ears. It can’t be. It simply can’t, he thinks dazedly as he dispenses with any semblance of politeness and pushes his way to the front. As he nears it, two heralds step out and the crowd drops to its knees; Haruka has no choice but to follow suit and touch his forehead to the ground again as Pharaoh steps forward between his slaves. A wave of nausea ripples through Haruka though he doesn’t know if it’s the sudden motion or his nerves.

“Raise your heads.” Pharaoh’s voice carries strongly, majestically, just barely hinting at his age. “Raise your heads and gaze upon Our son who has come of age: the last son of Our line, of Ra and of Horus, chosen one of the great goddess Bast and master of this estate and its possessions and lands for His eternity!”

“Long may it be!” The crowd choruses, but Haruka’s voice is stuck in his throat. His head does raise with the others, and his lips part softly as his eyes confirm what his intuition has already, _finally_, discerned. Makoto stands beside Pharaoh, a prince’s circlet of electrum around his head, gold armlets at his biceps to match the bracelets at his wrists, an elaborately beaded collar of blues and reds adorning his broad shoulders. His body has been freshly oiled, eyes perfectly kohled… Makoto looks even more like the god Haruka had thought he could be when he’d seen him naked by the pool, and Haruka’s mouth goes slightly dry despite himself. 

He can’t tear his eyes away.

After Makoto is properly lauded, he and Pharaoh turn from the gathering and go back inside. The crowd rises and, as the reveling begins again, viziers and nobles make their way to the heralds that flank the gate to ask for audience. Now that the shock has faded somewhat, myriad other emotions tumble through Haruka’s heart and mind; confusion and hurt, along with some of that earlier guilt, and he longs for his mother’s ability to transform at will as he tries to slip away, doing his best to not draw attention to himself. It’s easier once he’s through the thick of the crowd, and he moves silently and quickly around the back to the servant’s gate.

The courtyard is crowded with palanquin and litters, but there isn’t a soul around. Haruka sighs quietly in relief, and then something catches the corner of his eye. As he turns, he smiles a bit. “Mother,” he softly breathes and then he follows the cat of pure white to the edge of the pond in the far corner of the courtyard. As he settles onto his knees, She stretches and places Her front paws upon his shoulder, rubs his jaw with Her own, but Haruka feels it like the kiss and embrace that the moon shows in their shadows.

“My son.”

“I am glad to see you, but why?” he asks softly when they part, eyes cast just beyond the cat to the silhouette of Her humanoid form.

“You have longed for me many times since Nun sent you away but never as strongly as now,” She gently explains. “What troubles you, Beloved?”

Haruka’s cheeks heat as the memory of him uttering the endearment to Makoto rises, and then, on its heels, his confusion and hurt. “Makoto,” he replies quietly. “Why didn’t he tell me what—_who—_he is?”

“Did you ever ask?” Haruka’s cheeks warm further and he looks away. His mother softly sighs. “You have come a fair way in your short time here, my son, but you still have much to learn. You, above all, know that many have secrets, or things about which they don’t openly speak. Though, in Makoto's case, perhaps he thought that, as a guest of his home, you knew. I do not know his mind completely. I can promise you though, Haruka, that he is not a deceptive boy. And he would not have deliberately hurt you.”

A slight smile shows on Haruka’s lips. “You’ve watched him for a long time, haven’t you.”

“Mm. Since well before I came to him the first time.”

“It was you who called to him when he was left for drowned,” Haruka voices his suspicion.

“Mm. I knew from the moment he drew breath that he was destined to be mine, and I would not see him lost to his brothers’ foolish cruelty. I _didn’t_, however, anticipate that he was to be yours, too. Haruka?” She asks when Her gentle teasing doesn’t draw even a smile from the boy. 

“He must think I'm awful,” Haruka says quietly. “A full cycle and I never asked about it once.”

“I more think he's grateful.” Bast smiles a bit when Haruka looks up at Her in surprise. “Being the last son of Pharaoh hasn't been easy for Makoto. He is a modest child who would never brag like the others. He’s never wanted to be lauded or worshipped, but just to live freely, to be loved for who he is and not for what. Sound familiar?”

This time, Haruka does smile at the tease. “Mm. I just never considered the possibility,” he says after a moment as the gesture fades. “That one of high birth, on this plane, would also be so kind and gentle and servient, not only to you, but to me and to all he has contact with. Though, as a son of Ra’s line, it does explain the warmth I feel from his soul.” And, suddenly, Haruka misses Makoto’s soft voice, his eyes and smile.

“Not all of it,” Bast corrects. “Much of it is his alone.” She studies Her son for a moment, and then, “You’ve come to love him.”

Haruka blushes at his mother’s words but, this time, he doesn’t look away. “I have. And I would not leave him, even when I’ve learned what I’m meant to and am able. Mother, I wish to stay.”

“Haruka.” Haruka’s heart aches for the sadness he sees in his mother’s eyes as much as it warms from the love that also lays within them. “It pleases me, my son, and I would permit it.” He’s drawn again into his mother’s embrace. “Just remember how you came to be here and that the answer does not lie with me. Not even I have power over Nun. Not even I can guess Their mind. I do not know when They will consider Their punishment fulfilled, or what Their response to your plea will be once you are able to make it. Their power is absolute, as are Their decisions. But I will hope for you.”

“Mother—”

A rustle from a short distance behind him briefly draws his attention and he looks over his shoulder. Seeing nothing, Haruka looks forward again, but his mother has already gone, her whisper of _be well, beloved _coming back to him on the breeze. 

And, on the far side of the kitchen, near the granary, Makoto drops his head back against the wall, breaths shallow and quick, heart thumping and stomach lightly churning from what he’d just learned.


	5. Chapter 5

“Makoto. Makoto?”

“Ah, sorry. Hm?” Makoto colors at the look Asahi gives him but pretends that nothing’s wrong.

Asahi isn’t fooled. He’s been with Makoto since they were both five, when he was chosen by the lady to serve Makoto. He can still recall that first night, Makoto’s first from the nursery and Asahi’s first from his home. Asahi had never seen an actual bed before, let alone slept in one, and he’d been excited. Makoto had been trying to seem brave and grown, what with having been given rooms and a servant of his own, but he’d actually been lonely and terrified. Asahi had ended up sacrificing his first night in a room and bed of his own to sleep crowded into Makoto’s.

Fifteen years later, and Makoto wasn’t any better at hiding his feelings now than he’d been then.

Both Makoto and their relationship had changed as the two of them had aged. Circumstances, and Makoto’s birthright, had forced it. But they’d already become fast friends by that time, and the first command that Makoto had ever given Asahi had been that Asahi wasn’t to act differently around, or toward, him simply because Makoto was being made to act more his role. And then the incident with Makoto’s brothers had happened and life had changed again when, with the lady, they’d left Pharaoh’s palace for the estate on the Faiyum. Yet, through that and everything that had followed, including the celebration a couple nights back, Asahi had held true to the promise he’d made, which meant he knew Makoto better than anyone—and that he wasn’t afraid to speak honestly to his master and friend.

Makoto recognizes Asahi’s expression and his stomach twists a bit tighter. He knows he’s maybe two minutes from being called out for the past couple of days, and he frantically tries to come up with _something_ to tell him that is neither a lie nor a betrayal of Haru’s secret—the one that not even he’s supposed to know despite their confessions and the sex, and oh, god, he’d_ had sex with **Bast’s son**_! Granted, it hadn’t been intercourse, but he’d fantasized about that, too, and how will he ever be able to enter her tem—

“Makoto, what is _wrong_ with you? And don’t tell me nothing,” Asahi quickly says with a point. “You’ve been off since after the celebration.”

And, like that, Makoto has his out.

“I guess I’m still trying to get my head around everything,” Makoto says with a sheepish, close-eyed smile and a light itch to his chin. “It’s been a lot the past couple of days.” He doesn’t exactly feel _great_ about his answer, but he’s okay with it. Nothing about it is a lie.

“Mm-hmm.”

_Damn. _Maybe he _will_ go to temple, he thinks wearily. At least there, he doesn’t have to speak. 

“Are you going to temple today, at least?”

And Makoto smiles, his first genuine one in nearly forty-eight hours, as he thinks that, maybe, he hasn’t fallen completely out of the goddess’ favor after all.

Asahi doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Makoto again, but it's softer this time. He knows that Makoto had never wanted the attention that he'd been showered with the other night, knows that he just wants to be Makoto and not Pharaoh’s son; knows that it had been hard for him. But it's over now, so Asahi had thought that Makoto would relax again, be back to himself, not moping in his room like—Asahi’s eyes widen slightly. “You and Haru fought,” he says slowly, and he doesn’t need a verbal response; every bit of Makoto’s reaction tells him that he’s right.

Makoto’s lips press as his face warms and he drops his gaze away. Asahi’s wrong; at least, Makoto thinks he is. He doesn’t think it’s possible to fight with someone when you’ve neither seen nor spoken to them, but he can’t tell Asahi what’s really wrong, so Makoto lets the misassumption lie.

“Makoto.” There’s a gentle laugh in Asahi’s voice, and it’s enough to bring Makoto’s gaze up. “I know you don’t like to, but people fight all the time. It just means what you have with Haru is natural between the two of you, and that’s a good thing, right?”

And Makoto doesn’t know how he feels about that. Loving Haru had come so quickly and naturally that it had almost been as if Makoto hadn’t had a choice. It had been everything he’d ever longed for for himself as he’d listened to his brothers talk about sex and their partners like it and they were just things to be used and then cast aside like their toys or clothing. It had been Makoto’s happiest moment, learning that Haru felt the same way, and he can’t even be angry that Haru had kept his lineage a secret. He knows how _he_ would feel had he embarrassed his house, never mind learning that his rescuer was a devoted servant to said house on top of that. But it doesn’t change the truth of who Haru is and that he’d—

“Makoto.” Makoto blinks and looks up when he hears his name, feels Asahi’s warm hand on his shoulder. “Talk to him,” he urges kindly. “It’ll be alright. I know he’s as gone for you as you are for him.”

Asahi _is_ right about that, about both Haru’s feelings and that Makoto can’t continue to avoid him. His stomach still flips at the thought of it all, but he does give Asahi a slight smile and a nod. “Mm. I will when we return from temple.” That has to come first. Especially since he’d avoided that as well the day before.

Once Makoto’s morning ablutions are complete, Asahi excuses himself for the kitchen. His two trays are waiting, as usual—or as has become usual over the past cycle—and once he has them, he returns, though he takes the opposite hall which will lead him past the guest wing. He carefully crouches to set Haru’s tray outside his door as he always has, but then the door comes open in a rush and Asahi falls back on his ass. He blinks, surprised, because the other tray is just _gone_, but when he looks up, he sees Haru with it. “Thanks,” he says in relief but then his irritation belatedly catches up with him. “Hey, why’d y—”

“Why is Makoto avoiding me?” Haruka bluntly cuts in over Asahi’s question, and Asahi’s brows crease in sharply.

“Ask him,” he gives back just as curtly as he stands, the words out before he can remind himself that it’s just how Haru is—that it isn’t necessarily Haru being rude.

“I can’t. He’s _avoiding me.” _

“So _go to_ _him._ Wa—Haru, not _right now!” _ Asahi blurts as Haru shoves the tray at him as he tries to push past him. “Haru, wait!” Asahi quickly takes the tray with one arm and grabs Haru’s with his free hand. “I don’t know what happened, but he’s upset, too,” he rushes when Haru pauses. “He didn’t even go to temple yesterday. He’s better this morning, and I know he does want to talk to you, but let him tend to his duties first.” He smiles a bit then. “Your conversation will go better once he’s released that guilt by setting things right with Her.”

Haruka’s lips press tightly and his eyes narrow, but then, after a second or two, they go wide. _Of course,_ he thinks as he recalls the rustling he’d heard before his mother had left him that night. It hadn’t been some random servant after something in one of the litters. It had been Makoto, and Makoto had seen. It’s the only reason he can think as to why Makoto had been avoiding both him and his mother. His stomach twists slightly as, with that, myriad other questions flood into his mind, and Asahi silently sighs as he sees the worry cloud Haru’s eyes.

“He’ll come to you at dinner, I know it. He’s as torn up about this as you,” Asahi says and, when Haru nods, he releases Haru’s arm with a reassuring smile and hurries off. Once his back is turned, Asahi’s lips press again. And if Makoto doesn’t go willingly, Asahi will bring Haru to him. He doesn’t like to see either of them like this.

The day passes at a crawl for Haruka. He’s certain that he’s right, but he doesn’t understand why seeing him with his mother would make Makoto avoid him. He wonders if maybe Makoto is hurt that he hadn’t told him up front. It’s a logical assumption, but one that leaves him guilty and, admittedly, irritated. Makoto hadn’t been forthcoming with who _he_ was, after all, but then his mother’s voice echoes through him, reminding him how he’d never asked, and Haruka knows that it’s far more reasonable for Makoto to assume that Haruka had known that he was Pharaoh’s son than for Makoto to have even _considered_ that Haruka would be deity. It’s all troublesome, and leaves him to where he can’t even nap, so toward the end of the day, Haruka leaves the estate and makes his way to the temple. He won’t disturb Makoto, but he’s unwilling to wait even the length of time it would take Makoto to walk home to clear the air between them, the unrest inside himself.

The nervousness Makoto had been bearing largely dissipates as soon as he steps into the temple. Truth told, he doesn’t know what he’d been expecting. He knows that the gods are aware, that they do intervene and punish, had known this even before he’d found Haru—and gods, had it been _the_ sacred waters of Nun that Haru had been caught swimming in, he now wonders—but truthfully, Makoto’s day progresses as each one before it had. Neither the priests nor temple cats shun him, he’s not struck by lightning or torn asunder when he steps into Her sacred space, and he relaxes, finds peace, as he goes about his usual business. He still doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Haru, but he’s more confident that he’ll find the words—until he and Asahi step out at the day’s end and they both see Haru crouched at the edge of the Faiyum.

Asahi mentally facepalms, and then silently sighs before glancing up at Makoto. “I’ll just, uh…”

Makoto gives him a small smile. “It’s alright, Asahi, go on ahead.” Asahi nods, briefly places a reassuring hand on Makoto’s shoulder and then takes the path toward home as Makoto steps over to the bank.

“Haru.”

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Haruka says as he senses Makoto come to a stop behind him. He doesn’t see any point in beating around the bush. He’s tired of feeling hurt and lonely and _bored; _he just wants things cleared between them _now._ And, as he stands and turns to face Makoto, he really hopes that he’s right, because if he isn’t, he can’t think of any other reason why Makoto would be avoiding him. “You saw me with my mother the night of your celebration,” he furthers after several seconds of Makoto’s mouth silently working.

Makoto’s lips press closed. He swallows slightly and then nods. “Mm.”

“And that’s why you’re avoiding me?” Haruka huffs when Makoto looks away this time as he nods. “Why?” he demands, arms crossing over his chest, eyes narrowing.

“W- Har- _why?_” Makoto manages to stammer out after gaping a moment in disbelief. “Haru, I—we—you know what we did! And you’re a _god_! And not just that, you’re the son of the goddess I serve!”

“Not a full god,” Haru corrects, and then, before Makoto can question that, “And you’re a son of Ra and the living Horus, apparently. So?”

Makoto stammers for a moment, but then his brain catches up and his brow furrows slightly at Haru’s choice of words, of the way he’d spoken one in particular. “Apparently?” he repeats slowly, and then his eyes go wide when Haru sharply turns his gaze away. “You mean you didn’t _know?”_

“How was I to?” Haruka demands. “I was new to your plane, and you never told me.”

“I _thought you knew_!” Makoto shoots back, brows pitched in deeply. Haru’s eyes grow stormier and Makoto briefly presses his lips and reins his frustration back in. _Not a full god,_ Haru had said, and Makoto has no clue what that means, never mind how that’s affected Haru’s sight, or knowledge, of the lower plane. And, while Makoto would have thought that, after nearly a month, Haru would have heard or figured out who _he_ was, it certainly isn’t Haru’s fault that he’d assumed. “The day you learned of my fear,” he says, gentling his tone, “When you said you didn’t mind that I was different. I thought you knew then, and that you just didn’t care. That it didn’t matter to you.” Makoto smiles a bit, wistfully. “It made me happy,” he says softly. “To so many I’ve met, that’s all that does.” He takes a step forward then, stops, tips his chin to his chest. “Please, forgive me for my assumption. I swear, I didn’t keep it from you deliberately, and I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Stop that. Bowing your head,” Haruka clarifies when Makoto shoots him a puzzled look. “And it’s fine,” he continues as Makoto straightens. “I made assumptions myself and never asked, so it’s partially my fault, too. I thought you were the lady’s attendant,” he explains when curiosity lights Makoto’s eyes again. Makoto blinks and then laughs a bit around his _oh,_ and oh, Haruka’s missed the soft warmth of it and his voice, the deeper warmth of his touch, but they haven’t completely cleared the air between them yet, so he doesn’t let himself bask in it. “You haven’t answered my question,” he pushes instead, and then he lightly rolls his eyes and arches a brow with a scowl in a silent, _really? _when Makoto looks at him confused again.

“You’re being scary, Haru,” Makoto lightly complains, and then his brow furrows slightly as he thinks back over their conversation. “Oh,” he says, uncomfortably this time, when he recalls it, and then he shrugs slightly and looks away. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I know _technically_ I am. All that. I’ve just… never thought of myself as such, you know?

“That doesn’t change that you are,” Haruka refutes. “And _that_ doesn’t change _who_ you are: a good, caring man who changed how I see humanity and who gave my life a purpose.” He blushes deeply as he speaks, but his voice remains even, and he’s proud of himself. He doesn’t think he could have managed it not too long ago.

There’s no doubt what Haru sees his purpose as; Makoto can read it in his beautiful eyes, and he feels the same light, elated feeling rush through him that had the first time he’d received that silent confession. “Haru,” he breathes, and he closes the distance between them, drawing Haru close, breathing deeply as he nuzzles into his hair. “You still love me, now that you know?” It comes out more of a question than what he’d intended, but Haru just huffs a soft laugh and embraces him in return.

“Idiot. I just told you that it didn’t change anything.” Haruka’s eyes slide shut and he lowly purrs when Makoto strokes through the hair at the back of his head. “And you?” he tips his head up to ask quietly after. “Can you still love me?”

“Haru.” Makoto shifts his hand from Haru’s shoulder to his cheek, brings their mouths together in a slow, tender kiss. “I could no more stop loving you than I could adulating your lady mother,” he murmurs after, and then he gives Haru a small smile. “Do you think She minds?”

“Makoto.” Makoto’s eyes widen slightly when Haruka takes his face between his hands. “You are Her most faithful and favored servant,” he tells him, thumbs lightly caressing his cheekbones. “And you have cared for me, have shown me nothing but kindness and love from the moment we met, without knowing who I am. Besides, She has already given me Her permission and blessing. It’s fine.” His lips curve up suddenly, and he guides Makoto’s gaze to the right so that he can see the white cat sitting on the temple steps. “See?”

Makoto’s eyes go wide when he sees Her, sees the shadow of the great goddess that casts from the cat’s back in stark contrast to the pale grasses and encroaching desert sand. He tips his head slowly in deference and then looks back to Haru and smiles. “I’m glad,” He touches Haru’s cheek, strokes over his ear in his favorite caress. “With no disrespect to your lady mother, it wouldn’t have changed my love for you, but I’m glad.”

Haruka’s heart leaps and then frees itself of the burden he’s carried since the day they’d met. He closes his eyes against an odd sting, nuzzles into Makoto’s hand. There is still heaviness within him; he still doesn’t know what Nun will make of his plea. But much of it is gone with Makoto’s acceptance and that, while it would never come to it, Makoto’s love for him is such that he would choose Haru over Bast. 

Makoto’s eyes soften as he watches Haru, and after brushing down the tendon in Haru’s neck, he brings a finger to Haru’s chin, tips his head up, kisses him softly. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs against Haru’s mouth, and heat flashes through him to leave a stain on his cheeks when Haru gives him a wanting look through his lashes and nods. Another kiss and they leave the temple behind, fingers seeking each other’s as they walk along the bank toward the estate.

Once they’ve curved around the Faiyum and the temple has vanished from sight, Haruka hears something and he tenses and turns. Makoto hears it as well and he stops and pivots, and then his eyes widen as his face pales. “Haru!” he shouts, making a grab to take Haru’s hand again, but it’s too late. The hippopotamus’ head is down in a charge and he’s far too close for them to outrun it. He shouts Haru’s name again, frantically thinking that he might at least be able to get them into the water and out of its way, but then Makoto is flat on the ground, head bouncing off of the sand hard enough to stun him. A few seconds later, he becomes aware again and he sits, blinking to clear the sun’s haze, hand coming up to clear his face of the sand and give a gentle prod to his head. “Haru?” he calls as he drops his hand away, and then louder when he gets nothing. Panicking now, Makoto scrambles to his feet and then the world falls out from beneath him again when he turns. The hippopotamus is dead, and Haru is crumpled on the sand before it. “Haru!”


	6. Chapter 6

For a moment, Makoto stands stunned, and then the world rushes back in again. Shouting Haru’s name, he takes the few steps, drops to his knees on the sand and turns Haru over. Makoto’s stomach roils. Blood soaks Haru’s clothing, Makoto sees no sign of breaths, and he scoops him up and stands, his fright a harsh sting in his eyes. Before he can take a step, someone’s there, trying to take Haru from him, and Makoto holds Haru tighter to his chest and tries to push the other back. “Get out of my way!”

“Makoto!” Asahi grabs him this time, feels a little relief when recognition chases some of the wildness from Makoto’s eyes, but it’s short-lived when he sees the blood on Haru. “We’re closer to home now than we are the temple,” he says, and they take off running, Asahi moving further ahead as they approach to open the gates and then the doors. Makoto stalks through the house to the master’s room, now his own, and he lays Haru on the bed. Haru still hasn’t woken, hasn’t given him any sort of sign and, tears falling now, Makoto puts his ear to Haru’s mouth and then his chest. There’s nothing, not even the faintest beat and, with a sob, Makoto gathers Haru into his arms, body bending over Haru’s in his grief.

And then Haru sharply gasps as his entire body tenses, and Makoto nearly drops him with his startled cry.

Somehow, Makoto manages to lay him gently on the bed, fingers and slight smile shaking as he lightly touches Haru face. “Be still,” Makoto says through his tears, and then he tears Haru’s garment down the center. Makoto gasps again, hands falling limply to his sides. There are no visible wounds.

“Makoto?”

Asahi’s voice sounds as faint as Makoto feels, and Makoto echoes the unspoken question with his “Haru?”

“It’s fine,” Haruka says as Makoto helps him sit up, and he’s grateful for the assist. The pain from his rapid resurrection has left him lightheaded and slightly nauseous. “It’s a gift from your line to mine—though I wasn’t aware that I’d been granted it,” he admits. “You know of Ra’s battle as the Great Cat Mau?” Haruka nods when Makoto does, and then he lightly leans against Makoto. “After, He visited the Underworld in that form where He gave life to the nine.” Haruka feels Makoto nod again. “According to my mother, having granted the nine lives, Mau demanded He be given the same,” Haruka shares. “Not in sacrifices, but to use Himself to further extend his longevity. Eventually, when my mother was born, as Ra’s protector, He passed the gift of nine lives to her line.”

Awe and amazement, thoughts of destiny and souls bound, rush jumbled through Makoto’s head, but he can only speak the foremost on his mind as his arm tightens around his beloved and he turns his head to kiss his temple. “I’m so glad.”

“Makoto?”

Makoto straightens and looks over sheepishly. He’d briefly forgotten that Asahi was there, and despite everything, he has to smile for how confused Asahi looks. Haru speaks before Makoto can, though; tells Asahi of his mother and punishment. For several moments, all Asahi can do is gape, but then he closes his mouth, swallows and runs a hand down his face. “I guess that explains why you were so haughty and aloof at first?” he says with a wan grin. “That’s better than it being because you were an ass.”

“Asahi!” Makoto blurts, though he ceases his reprimand when Haru softly laughs as he lays a hand over his own.

“That’s fair.”

Makoto sighs and shakes his head at the two of them, but then his features soften as Haru’s eyes slip closed and he nestles his head into the crook of Makoto’s shoulder. Gently, Makoto strokes through the hair over Haru’s ear and then he tips his head to look at Asahi. “Bring me some water and a cloth, and fresh garments? he asks his friend and, as Asahi slips out, he turns his attention back to Haru. Makoto’s expression softens further as he again touches Haru’s face; his lower lip trembles slightly even as he smiles. He still cannot believe that Haru lives, and he’s moved beyond words that Haru had given a life to save him. “Sleep, beloved,” he murmurs as he gently lays Haru down again and, after removing the remnants of his soiled clothing, draws a blanket over him. “You’ve earned it.” 

Stroking Haru’s hair a last time, Makoto lightly kisses his forehead and then moves to a chair, where Asahi finds him asleep as well some minutes later. The redhead smiles affectionately and shakes his head. Makoto is still the son of Pharaoh, a prince, no matter how far removed from the throne he is, yet there he sits, dirt on his face, his clothing soiled and torn, asleep in a chair for having, essentially, surrendered his bed to a stray. Asahi laughs under his breath as he exits the room after placing a spare blanket over Makoto. Some things never change, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved his friend and master more.

When Makoto eventually wakes, it’s to a room darkened by nightfall and a comfortable weight in his lap. His jaw is nuzzled and he makes a soft, contented sound, another following when the spot is lightly licked with a slightly rough tongue. “Haru,” he murmurs, nuzzling him in turn as he runs a hand down Haru’s spine. Haru shivers and presses closer as Makoto inadvertently teases at an ear and his tail, and Makoto’s eyes open in surprise. “Why?” he murmurs when Haru looks up at him after he lifts his head. He can see that Haru has cleaned himself—and Makoto as well, from the feel of it—but Haru definitely isn’t wet.

The first thing Haruka had seen when he’d opened his eyes had been Makoto, bathed in moonlight where he slept in his chair. He’d gotten up to go to him, and then had seen the water Asahi had brought for them; it made him realize how dirty he still felt, so he’d cleansed himself first. He hadn’t bothered with the fresh clothing after, but had gone to Makoto and had tended to him the best he could before giving into the call of his warmth, shifting to his lap, and nestling close. Haruka hadn’t meant to wake him, but he can’t feel bad about it, not with the contentedness with which Makoto speaks his name, especially not after Makoto starts to nuzzle and pet him in turn. He smiles when Makoto asks his question and he noses along Makoto’s jaw again. “This is also my form when I’m home. And Makoto is my home.”

“Haru.” Makoto tips Haru’s chin up, smiles into his eyes. “Haru is my home, too,” he returns before kissing him slow and deep, arms slipping around him to hold him close as he stands to take Haru to his bed.

Haruka lets Makoto lay him down, but then he sits up again once Makoto straightens. “Let me finish your bath now that you’re awake,” he says, and Makoto gives him a sheepish smile and nods. Haruka stands, helps Makoto out of his tunic and loincloth, then washes him from his shoulders down, front and back, and eventually kneels before him. By now, they’re both fully hard, as neither mouths nor hands could be kept to themselves; Haru makes quicker, but still thorough, work of Makoto’s upper legs, ass and groin, and then the cloth drops to the floor as he leans in and nuzzles the smooth skin at the base of Makoto’s dick and breathes in deep. His entire being is flooded with the addictive scent that’s been calling to him since Makoto undressed and, hands sliding up Makoto’s legs and around to his ass, Haruka licks up his shaft and over his head.

“Hah… Haru,” Makoto’s breath catches hard as the rough tongue laps at him, as Haruka softly purrs from his taste. Haru slips his mouth over him then and he mewls, tail twitching jerkily through the swathe of moonlight. The vibration shoots through Makoto’s dick to his balls and, groaning, he shifts his hand into Haru’s hair. “It’s good. So good, Haru,” he breathes, hips pushing forward just slightly as Haru’s mouth slides further down. Makoto’s lips part with the rush of pleasure when Haru takes what Makoto gives him, and he watches Haru suck him through heavily lidded eyes as he alternately combs his fingers through Haru’s hair or toys with an ear.

Haruka aches. Makoto’s taste, his touches, the sounds he makes, the want and adoration in his eyes; it’s not physical yet, but an ache for more, and his gut and tail spasm in pleasure as he thinks about Makoto surrounding and filling him, claiming his body as he has his heart. Haruka feels moisture leak down the side of his dick and he brings his fingers to it, runs them through, wraps his hand around his shaft to stroke. Makoto’s hips stutter, pushing a bit deeper into Haruka’s throat as he curses, and then he slips from Haruka’s mouth completely. Haruka’s lips start to curve down but then he’s being picked up, Makoto hungrily taking his mouth, and then licking the pre-come from Haruka’s fingers before he puts Haruka on the bed on his stomach.

Makoto’s dick leaks fresh when, as if sensing his intent, Haru pushes up onto his knees and parts his legs. The sight from a moment ago, Haru fondling himself, Makoto’s dick in his mouth, had nearly done Makoto in, and the last of his restraint snaps as he’s treated to full sight of Haru’s pert ass and pink hole; how his sinuous tail stands high in the air, twitching back and forth, broadcasting his need. Subconsciously licking his lips, Makoto climbs onto the bed behind him, runs his tongue from the inside of Haru’s right knee to that ass cheek, then tips his head to lightly tease his mouth over the skin near the base of Haru’s tail.

Haruka’s lips part in a gasp and his eyes flare as pleasure frissons down his spine. Makoto must sense it because a pleasured sound vibrates through the sensitive flesh and then Makoto’s tongue traces over it, drawing a wet, hot line from the initial point down and across the scant bit between his tail and hole. A hot breath briefly washes over his entrance and Haruka’s hips push back on instinct as he starts to softly pant. “Makoto…” Teeth lightly scrape along the skin to the left next and Haruka shivers, claws at the sheets. “Makoto, ple—mah… ahhh!” Haruka’s pleasure breaks his plea when he feels Makoto’s tongue against his hole.

Makoto’s pleasured himself here before, fingers wet, imagination rampant. He knows how good _that_ feels to him, that it likely pales in comparison to the real thing, and he’s pleased by Haru’s reaction; gladly obliges when Haru asks so prettily for his tongue, though he has to drop a hand to his dick and squeeze as he licks at him. Haru’s hole spasms as Makoto lightly presses the flat against it and exhales; Haru cries out for him, pushing back as he then traces just the point around Haru’s rim before bringing it to the center. It gives with a slow thrust of his tongue and Haru mewls his name again as he pushes in to lick inside him. Edge off his own need, Makoto lets himself go, brings that hand to Haru’s cheek to open him further and push his tongue in deeper, then pulls away after a moment or two to quickly suck the fingers of his other hand and make them wet. Once he has, he dips his head to lick over and into Haru’s ass again and, once he’s soft and slick, Makoto brings his mouth back to the flesh around and beneath Haru’s tail as he works his fingers in. “So good, Haru,” he praises, leaning up to rub his cheek along the lower part of Haru’s tail and then press a kiss to the base of his spine as his fingers fuck him open. “You’re being so good for me.”

Haruka has fingered himself before, but never as deep as Makoto is pushing. The fullness quickly shifts from uncomfortable to incredible, and Haruka feels no shame in pleading for more with his body and voice. He’s never been one to deny himself his pleasures, and he craves Makoto more than he ever has the water, wants Makoto to split him open and fill him up. He’s opening easily for Makoto now, enough to where Makoto’s tongue slips in with his fingers on the outward slide; Haruka’s balls are drawn tight and he can feel the tip of his tail against his back, it’s curved so high from his want. Panting harshly, he rocks forward instead of back when he feels Makoto’s tongue again. He doesn’t like the empty feeling, so he turns as quickly as his trembling limbs will let him, answering Makoto’s question before he can speak it by kissing him deep and hard as his arms slip around Makoto’s neck and he pushes in close to him.

Makoto’s surprise is short-lived; it’s clear what Haru wants, that he’s ready. Soft mewls slip over Makoto’s tongue and into his mouth as Haru greedily licks his own taste from him. It makes Makoto harder and he twines an arm around Haru, bringing him with him as he settles back onto his calves. Haru breaks from the kiss, cages Makoto’s hips with his knees, pushes up and reaches behind him, and Haru’s hand is like a cool brand around Makoto’s cock as he guides it past his rim to sink down on it. “Hah… mmm, Haru…” Makoto swallows, drops his head forward, trying to catch his breath as he nuzzles Haru’s ear. “You’re so… gods, _so_ good, so tight.” His breath exhales on a shuddering breath when Haru’s ass is on his thighs, every inch of Makoto inside him. “Still.” He swallows again, eyes squeezing shut as his hands grip Haru’s waist. “Just stay still…”

Haruka purrs low in his throat as he settles onto Makoto’s lap, finally filled, the pleasure of it already eroding what discomfort he feels. Eyes slitting closed, he nuzzles into Makoto’s neck, breathes deeply of his scent. “It’s fine,” he murmurs to Makoto’s plea, and he mewls his pleasure when he feels Makoto’s cock shift inside him as he arches forward to rub his own against Makoto’s abdomen. “I’m fine. You’re not hurting me.”

Makoto breathes a chuckle and Haru lifts his head. “I’m glad,” Makoto says sincerely, brushing his lips over Haru’s. “But _I _need a minute, or I’m not going to last, and I want to make you feel good, Haru.”

Haruka’s expression softens and he returns Makoto’s kiss. “Makoto makes me feel good all the time,” he murmurs as they meet eyes again. Makoto _smiles_, and Haruka almost can’t stand the thought of kissing it away, but he does, because he can’t resist Makoto’s mouth and because he knows that he’ll see it again, every day that they’re together. After a minute or two, Makoto’s hands squeeze his waist again; Haruka breaks from their kissing and, after a look into Makoto’s eyes, he bears down around him and then rolls his hips forward to rub his cock against Makoto again. Makoto’s low groan fuels his desire and, this time, he uses his knees, pushing himself partially off of Makoto’s dick and then slipping back down again.

Soon, Makoto’s meeting him, hips snapping up as Haru drops down. The air is thick with the scent of their sweat and sex, the slap of their flesh and their wanton sounds. Haru’s mouth is on Makoto’s neck, rough tongue licking through his sweat as he mewls breathlessly against his ear. Everything’s bordering on surreal as the pleasure becomes almost _too_ strong, and then Makoto feels the sting of nails biting into his shoulder blades and he’s done. Breath catching and stuttering, his hips snap up hard with how strongly his orgasm hits him; he hears Haru cry out, feels a wet heat splash across his abdomen and his hips jerk hard again as Haru clenches around him.

Haruka groans as Makoto’s come fills him deep, the sudden increase in pressure, the stuttering cry against his ear, the friction to his dick as Makoto arches up and forward taking him over almost simultaneously. Eventually he becomes aware of Makoto hands again, one gently cupping the back of his head, the other stroking soothingly down his back. Haruka opens eyes, sees Makoto’s soft smile, returns his gentle kiss, arms tightening around Makoto’s neck as Makoto eases him down and slips out of him.

Haruka whines softly as Makoto’s weight leaves him, at the sudden and odd feeling of emptiness, but then Makoto is back, lips brushing over Haruka’s in apology. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he lowly croons with a gentle stroke to Haru’s cheek, and then Makoto cleans him, settling onto the bed behind him after, Makoto’s hand finding Haruka’s waist to draw him back. Haruka sighs as his ass snugs into the cradle of Makoto’s hips, Makoto’s soft cock providing just enough pressure to his hole to ease the deeper ache, and he drifts off as Makoto’s arms settle protectively around him.

Makoto sleeps as well, until, eventually, he consciously realizes that Haru’s moved away, and he rolls over to find him. The empty space draws his eyes open with a blink and he runs his hand down his face—and then is wide awake in an instant when he sees Haru sitting on the wide windowsill with the white cat in front of him. “I won’t ask if you are certain,” Makoto hears Bast say. “It is clear that your heart has found its home. But remember, though Nun has granted Their permission, it has come with a price. You are forever banned from the water.”

“I know.” And Makoto’s heart aches for the sorrow he hears in Haru’s voice, and then deeper and sweeter when Haru follows it with, “But the sacrifice is worth it if it means that I can stay with him.”

“Haru.”

Haru and the cat both turn to look at him, but then a sharp flash of light splits the room. The air becomes darker despite it, heavy, and Makoto shivers.

“**_You have grown, son of Bast_**,” an ancient voice rumbles through, and Makoto’s eyes go wide, body trembling with awe as he drops his chin to his chest. He’s never heard it before, but he knows as surely as the cat is Bast’s that this voice is Nun’s. “**_You now see beyond your self and your pleasures; have sacrificed both for another. You have learned what We had sent you to and We grant you enjoyment of the water at your will, and without punishment. But, since you have chosen the lower realm, as We lift Our curse, so shall We your blessings of the longevity of the gods and the multiple lives of your mother’s line. The one you have now shall be your last, so live it wisely and well_**.”

As abruptly as the atmosphere had shifted, it returns to normal. “Haru,” Makoto breathes as he lifts his head, and Haruka smiles softly when the moonlight shimmers through the moisture in Makoto’s eyes.

“It’s what I want, Makoto. _You_ are.”

“And thus it’s been done.” Makoto recalls Bast’s presence only when She speaks, and She laughs, it as delicate as handbells on the wind, when his eyes go wide again. “As was meant to be, I think. Only you, my child, have ever managed to draw such emotion and passion from my son. And only you, my son, have ever made my child forget me. I love you both,” She says softly and then, to Haruka, “Do not let your heart be sad for me, my love. You have chosen well, and I am proud of you for it.” The white cat puts its paws on Haruka’s shoulder and softly nuzzles his jaw; Haruka’s eyes fall shut in his mother’s embrace, keeps them closed as she slips away.

Makoto’s heart aches again for Haru as he witnesses Bast’s farewell, as he considers everything that Haru has given for him, for Makoto, not for Pharaoh’s son. He does find some consolation as he reminds himself that Bast hadn’t told Haru that they wouldn’t meet again, and he bows his head again, silently renewing his dedication to Her and vowing his promise to love and care for Her son through their eternities. _I know, _Bast’s voice gently echoes through his soul, _it is why I allowed it_. And Makoto smiles and thanks his lady before he softly beckons Haru back to bed.

Haruka smiles as the call, as gentle and loving as his mother’s, comes to him from across the room. It soothes the ache of Her departure and he pads back over to the bed, slides under the blanket and settles in tight against Makoto’s broad chest. Haruka’s smile returns when Makoto’s arms come around him and he hears the tender, _I love you_ against his hair. He hasn’t truly lost anything at all, he thinks. His bond with his mother is ever-strong, he’s lived for an age without knowing of his multiple lives, and continued longevity would mean nothing to him without Makoto at his side. His own personal sun, Haruka thinks, as—even in the dead of night—Makoto’s uniquely beautiful warmth envelops him, and he leans up to nuzzle along Makoto’s jaw before settling back into his embrace and closing his eyes with a contented purr.


End file.
